


Drowning Before Your Eyes

by Ben1899



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Middle Ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22554976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ben1899/pseuds/Ben1899
Summary: Duke Draco Malfoy is achingly lonely after the death of his Mother.  Harry Potter is a broken soul, having lost the only person who ever embraced him, Cedric Diggory, in a ship wreck.  The two young men find a common ground in grief and the longing to know if life can ever continue.  A Drarry AU.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO...this is my first attempt at an AU Drarry story. It's rough, and I'm American - so it's very UN-British. But, hopefully you enjoy.
> 
> I will update it as I can. I'm thinking 3-5 chapters?  
> Thanks for any positive comments or Kudos!

Only in the space between heart beats does true silence actually exist. The eerie calm Harry felt as he was pulled further downwards through murky dark water was at once peaceful and yet cold as dread filled him to his bones. Unblinking, unfeeling he sank into darkness, a deep vibrating hum filled his ears, the echo of the storm that was raging just beyond the surface of the water. His arms raised suspended in front of him, reaching towards the surface, what was he even reaching towards? Harry's vision was quickly darkening, a biting numbness making him feel heavier. 

'I could sleep now, rest even, forever...' The thought came sweeping through his mind like a whisper of emotion. 

Harry began to embrace the idea of a forever sleep, his dark hair swirling around his face. Then suddenly, a great lurch pulled at his arms, his body propelled upwards, his ears rushing with the passing water. His head broke the surface, causing his resporitory system to pull oxygen into his burning lungs. Heaving sea water he had swallowed, Harry took in greedy gasps of wet air around him. His eyes were blurry with out his glasses to clear his vision, all around him the storm had calmed, but still rain came spitting down. A muffled voice, hard to make out was encouraging him, a steel banded arm was secured to him. 

"Harry! Come on now, I've got you! Just hold on to me Harry! ....I...I'll strap us ...to this drift of the ship...Harr...Harry..love..." Was all he could make out through the pounding of his ears before blackness swallowed him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

The swoosh of water rushing onto him was the next sensation Harry felt, his numb fingers flinched, digging into wet gritting sand. Harry's head was pounding and his throat felt like fire. Slowly he cracked open his eyes to the blinding light all around him. A blurring figure was beside him, as Harry's vision cleared, he could make out the soft features of Cedric Diggory. Harry pulled his strength from some unknown deepth, using his fingers to claw at the sand and haul himself closer. With shaking grip he was close enough now, with out his glasses to clearly see the glassy vacancy of life in Cedric's eyes.

As a sob wretched itself from Harry's throat, he began to cling to Cedric's body. Pulling the heavy sinking weight of the other mans limbs into Harry's arms, Harry rocked. He didn't hear the horses aproaching, He didn't see the swords drawn around him. Harry could only feel the agony of loss.

Finally a touch smoothed over his aching shoulder, a voice breaking through Harry's fog.

"Feel no more sorrow young sir, your friend's spirit sails on calm waters through endless peace." 

Harry blinked through his blurry vision, the bright sun momentarily blinding him furthur, he focused on the sun leather face close to him. From what Harry could take in, the man was small built, He had a worldly age to his battered features, like someone who had aged quicker than their actual years. But it was the man's eyes, two large dark unending pools of gentleness that finally gave Harry pause. The man's eyes spoke that He understood loss and simultaneously believed in the hope of something....more. His weathered hand slid from Harry's shoulder and reached for the cold body Harry held in his arms, causing Harry to tense his hold.

"Young Master, Please...Your dear one is...He is...."

Harry swallowed the harsh fire that was still persistent in his throat, and closed his eyes. His hands trembling, Harry released Cedric's body as it was pulled gently from his arms. He felt numbness set into himself again. Cedric had been ....well...words couldn't define the gentle glow that always followed his path. It drew people to him like a moth to flame. Harry included. But it had been the warm glow of affection between friends who were maybe more than friends that had caused Harry to follow Cedric on this journey across the sea. 

Broken from his thoughts with a ragged breath Harry blinked open his eyes again at the gentle touch of the same small man.

"There now Young Master....Please...Come with me Sir. I will see to your wounds and perhaps together...we'll make sense of this tragedy."

Harry grasped the worn caloused hand offered to him and swayed on worn legs as he was pulled to stand. Harry dug his bare toes into the sand and leaned into the grip of the man beside him. 

"Steady on Sir..." Harry was trembling, but pushed his body to right itself. 

With a croaking rasp Harry was able to push words from his lips. "Tha...Thank You. Please, I am...that is.." Harry was grasping for his words, as his mind was still tossing around on the beach. He looked at the scene around him: Cargo boxes from the ship they'd been on was strewn across the beach, far in the distance Harry could make out the remaining skeleton of the ship they'd just safely been aboard the afternoon before.

A flash of Cedric's shy smile on that sunny morning as they excitedly boarded ran across Harry's mind:

The Queen Thestral was a handsome ship. It had been crossing the channel between Harry's home country of Griffendor and Slythania for years. Her Captain was well appointed. Having served in the King of Slythania's Navy for several years prior to purchasing a share in the D.A. Trading company. Harry had felt a rush of adrenaline and joy as he linked his fingers between Cedrics, feeling the soft blush of affection bloom between them Harry bravely clung to the distant warmth of his touch and remembered his heat racing as they boarded.

"Leutenant Dobby." rushed loudly in Harry's ears.

Coughing, Harry crashed back into the wrecked beach, he squinted and focused again on the man beside him, noticing now he wore a dark uniform and was pulling on a set of worn leather gloves. "My name Young Master, is Leutenant Dobby - the Duke sent us down to search for any wreckage or survivors. Last nights storm was.... " His words trailed off after seeing Harry's already pale face draw tight. "Yes, well. His grace is always mindful of public assistance." Lt Dobby lead Harry to a horse. Harry paused to squint towards a large trunk close to them. Gasping he lunged for it. 

"Our things!" Harry forced out of himself as he dove for the trunk, wrenching it open to find all the contents a bit water logged, but none worse for the wear. He dug until his fingers grasped the cool metal of his spare glasses, pulling them onto his face. Now able to see clearly he traced over the contents more throughoutly, the breath leaving him yet again as he digested the damage. 

With shaking fingers he brought up a small wet portrait, the colors smeared on the canvas, but still visible. The canvas was small, only a scrap leftover from a much larger project Cedric had been comissioned for. It showed Harry, his pale torso bared, a white sheet hastily thrown over his hips and the bench where he sat, his fingers rested on piano keys. Harry's peaceful face looking off into the distance. With a fumbling excitement and breath stealing fear - Harry had lost his virginity to Cedric that day. A moment, of post coital bliss, presearved forever. Cedric had begged Harry to sit just as he was, saying the light was perfect. Harry obliged with a sigh, softly playing any note that expressed the contented warmth that filled Harry's well saited body.

He dropped it into the trunk with a cold thud. Next, pulling out his warmest cloak, Harry wrapped himself in the woolen safety and protection that his aching bones needed. He stood again and turned to face Lt. Dobby. "Sir...if I may...My...my friend had secured a commission from the King to paint the Duke's portrait." Harry took a steady breath, willing the ache of his broken heart to let him speak. "I would like to personally seek the Duke's assistance in notifying Cedric's family of his passing."

"Yes, yes. Naturally." Lt. Dobby exclaimed. "His grace is a busy man...but I do believe his secretary...Sir Longbottom can be of assistance. He would know all the details concerning the portrait." 

Harry nodded, and felt all life quickly rushing out of him. He and the other assembled survivors were pushed onto a cart from the local village that had arrived. They were escorted into town where they were able to attend to their well being and make arrangements.

Harry met with Sir Longbottom at the local pub, and was happy to find him aimiable to helping Harry notify Cedric's family. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry only knew little of Cedric's life here in Slythania. Cedric had promised to endlessly drag Harry across the countryside - showing him every rock and memory Cedric had as a young man who yearned only for adventure outside of his home. He'd told Harry how his family was of little to no influence, his father a minor official from a small but important farming settlement outside the capital called Hufflepufton. Cedric had showed promise, young, as a painting prodigy and his father had quickly pulled every string he could to push Cedric onto the right apprentiship that would gain him access to the best and wealthiest patrons. Harry often thought Cedric didn't seem quite happy in the position thrust upon him. Sometimes Harry would catch Cedric watching the soldier's practice thier swords play in public space and he would ask Cedric if he'd ever thought to become one. Cedric would snap out of his daydream and pull Harry closer, burying his nose into Harry's neck and breathe against his skin "...why would I dream of war when I have all of heaven in my arms..." 

This of coarse would make Harry swoon with delight and blush. He couldn't ever quite figure out why someone as talented and beautiful as Cedric would want ordinary Harry. 

They'd met on a rainy afternoon, taking refuge under the same large oak tree in the deasserted countryside. Harry had been running for what felt like hours from his Uncle's farm. He was sure he looked a sight, bruised and broken from the recent beating he'd gotten from his Uncle for embarasing him in front of a visiting cousin. The barbarian woman had been speaking of Harry's dead parents, Harry's outburst had cost him dearly. Even his cousin Dudley flinched as Harry's Uncle grabbed Harry's arm, twisting it behind his back causing the bones to grate together. He was drug to the stables, tied, and beaten bloody. 

When his Uncle finally released his bonds Harry barely registered the cold water being flung over his body and the venom of words his Uncle spat: "I dont want to see your worthless shadow on my doorstep any longer Potter!" The man spat "We took you in, provided for you even...out of pity for the worthless stock you came from. But no more, you're of age - time you left." So Harry did. Caught in the storm, no real direction, He almost leapt from his skin when he heard a gentle voice clear behind him. 

"Hello..." Cedric voice was all soft sigh on the cold of a spring day. Harry remembered the instant rush of warmth as he took in the slightly older man's appearence. "I'm Cedric. Don't suppose you could guide me and my Horse towards Raventown? I've a patron there...a Lady and Lord Grainger...ugh...any ways I've seem to be a bit...turned around since this rain struck." 

Harry looked to see the horse over Cedric's shoulder. He focused again on the man's expressive and soft face and felt his whole body relaxing in his calm and gentle fumbled plea for help.

"Y...Yes..I know of Raventown. It's just...just there...Over the Green Mount Pass." Harry pointed in the distance and felt Cedric draw closer. He was taller than Harry, and he found himself look up into two warm golden brown eyes. "I'm Harry, by the way, Harry Potter." He struck out his hand meekly. Cedric's face bloomed into a handsom and easy smile, his eyes taking on a new twinkle as he grasped at the offered digits.

"Please Harry...wont you journey with me?" Cedric asked as the rain begain to break, the whole valley now smelling fresh and full of promise. Harry had agreed, finding the gentle spirit of creativity that Cedric provided like a balm to the battered broken life Harry had lived until that moment.

They drew to only become closer friends on the days journey, and even upon arrival to Raventown. Cedric implored Harry to stay with him at the small cottage his patron's provided saying with warmth that he had grown fond on Harry's company on what would have been a lonely journey. Harry wanted nothing more than wrap himself in Cedric's admiration and so...He did. Through the month's that passed spring into summer Harry told Cedric about his dead parents, his Mother a well through of musician and his father, brave knight from King Godric's stables. How they died traigically - his father in the war with the Voldarian's and his mother shortly after in childbirth. Cedric listened with a calm and soothing pressence. It was easy to be in his light.

Cedric encouraged him to find out if any of his Mother's musical talent had been passed onto Harry. Even conviencing his patron, Lady Grainger to allow Harry to sit in on her young daughter's piano lessons. Harry at first resisted, but then found himself to enjoy the feel of the keys beneath his fingers.

Harry also found himself drawn towards the danger of a good fight. His blood rushing through his ears as he spent an afternoon in the hot sun sweating through his linen shirt as he and the young Lord Weasley practiced dueling. Harry and The Young Lord met and struck a fast friendship after Harry discovered the Lord wallowing outside the normally empty artist cottage. Lord Ronald Weasley was besotted over the daughter of Lord and Lady Grainger, and as such, found himself at a loss on how to encourage her affections towards him. Harry found it a welcome distraction from his blooming dread over the end of Cedric's patronage here. He was unsure if what Cedric and He had would continue.

That afternoon, his body sore from sparring with Ronald, Harry stood by the warm spring fed river and peeled off his clothes, running his hands over the lithe compact muscles of his own body. Cedric had generously encouraged that Harry share in everything his patron provided - including food. As a result, his body had begun to fill out into the lean muscled frame a healthy young man should have. Harry didn't know what either of his parents looked like. Harry himself had dark inky black hair, that always seemed to flutter around his head like a coil of snake's caught in a nest. His skin was tanned from sun exposure over years of manual labor on his Uncle's farm. His Aunt would often scoff and tell him that it was his eyes that made him the most freakishly horrid though - bright green. 

Harry ran his fingers gently through his sore shoulders and neck. Then biting his lower lip he dared to skim softly down his chest and caught his nipples on each index finger, pushing and rubbing till they tightened into buds. He closed his eyes and drew on his most private fantasies, a faceless young man with skilled fingers who would play Harries flesh like a strung insturment, pulling on Harry's flushed cock with authority. Harry continued his hand down to that aching member, holding the base in a loose fist as he slowly pumped himself to climax. His cheeks flush with blood and his breath short with panting.

He sighed as he waded further into the water, he dipped his head under and gasped for air as he rose. The sound of a sharply drawn in breath had Harry turning. He could barely make out the blurry image of Cedric on the shore, squinting. "Cedric?" Harry blushed he was sure scarlet, having been caught pleasuring himself. He waded toward the shore reaching to slide his glasses up his nose while angling his body in the most modest posture he could. He looked toward Cedric and his breath caught. 

Cedric was panting like he'd been caught at a run, his pupils blown dark. He was looking at Harry like a starving man. "Harry..." He strode towards him on shaking legs, his finger tips trembling as they made contact with Harry's bare chest. Harry drew in a sharp breath and parted his lips to lick at his bottom lip. Cedric traced the movement and parted his own mouth leanning towards Harry. Cedric closed his eyes and the world tilted as thier lips brushed. "Harry...please...I..." Cedric was sucking on Harry's collar bone, his fingers digging into Harry's hips. "Please Harry...I need more of you...I need so much more of you..." It was the first time in his life that Harry truly trusted someone with all of himself. So, Harry nodded, and gave himself to Cedric.

The next early morning, Cedric painted and Harry posed by the piano in that small artist cottage for the damaged portrait that still remained wrapped and closed with care in the bottom of Harry's trunk. It was peaceful to know and be reminded of how they dreamed they would be together, loyalty exchanged in hushed gasps between pressed flesh.

If He'd only known how short that beautiful summer would turn out to really be...  
___________________________________

One year later, Harry found himself once again at a transition of his life. 

Harry had delivered new's to Cedric's father, spending his time carefully in mourning. Cedric's father was a man haunted from the loss of his son. Harry did the best he could to fill in the details of how he had came to know Cedric, thier friendship and to assure Mr. Diggory that Cedric had been happy in the time Harry had known him.

After that, life became a blur. Harry spent time working the odd job as he passed like a shadow from town to town. His Aunt and Uncle ensured he was educated, only so he could take care of trade around the farm. Harry could read and write, in thier short time together Cedric had helped Harry advance these skills. This gave him the ability to searve as secretary in a small aging Lord's house - Lord Felix. Harry had found the job through Mr. Diggory, who was endlessly connected - just as Cedric had once told him. But Lord Felix had passed suddenly one night.

And so, Harry found himself once again, in the same pub he'd met with Sir Longbottom, looking into the flames of the pub's hearth, with no idea what direction to go next. He couldn't bring himself to return across the sea. Too much of Cedric still lingered there, in Griffindore, and would always linger there for Harry. But life in Slythania was increasingly a shadow of what he once thought it would be. Harry felt drawn to it's green forests and white sandy coast, despite tragedy, this was where Cedric had grown into the man Harry would meet. 

"Young Master...Pleased to see you again sir." Harry looked up from his thought's to see the face of Lt. Dobby.

"Leutenant...I am...well err...yes. Thank you." Harry managed to squeeze out softly as he shook the hand of the small soldier before him.

"Beg your pardon sir...but...is there some assistance I can be to you? I only notice you seem a bit...well...lost?"

Harry drew in a slow breath and nodded carefully. He explained his current situation to the Leutenant, in polite details and folded his hands on the small table before him. Upon completion, he watched the flickers of thought glide over Lt. Dobby's face. 

"You may do as you see fit Young Master, but I wonder...If you might take orders with his Grace?" Harry sat straighter, thinking over the Luetenant's words as he continued 

"Its just that...Sir Longbottom is to be married soon. He will be leaving to settle house with his new Lady and His Grace is...." Harry frowned at the trailing of the soldier's sentence and the ackward posture he took on, but before Harry could come to any conclusions the soldier carried on "...His Grace, the Duke is a difficult Master to be of searvice to. He often keeps odd hours, and can run through a....gambit...of moods at any given time." 

Harry sat back with an easier posture once again musing over the tale being spun. "So what you're alluding to Leutenant is that the Duke can be a difficult Master to please?" Harry smiled softly at the look of horror spread across the Leutenant's face, believing he'd just spoke ill against his own Sire.

"NO! ...er...Well..." The soldier looked around the pub and leaned forward to conveigh his message in more confidence to Harry in a hushed tone "...Since the Duke's Mother passed a few months ago...He's been....different. " Harry's eyes widened a fraction and nodded for Lt. Dobby to continue " I just mean that the Duke was close to her. The Queen was a breath of confidence and calm air in all things. They were close, in all things, she was his confidant in all things. The Queen was well beloved by all who knew her. " Harry nodded, and swallowed the lump growing in his throat.

"Your Duke though, will not wish for a commoner to be his Secretary after having one of the Lord's to searve him." Harry noted to the Leutenant. "I am hardly as well thought of and educated as Sir Longbottom." He drew his brows down as he saw the mischevious look on the face of Lt Dobby.

"Young Master, I do believe you are of more noble birth than you know..." the weathered old man stood abrubtly and tilted his head toward Harry in acknowledgement 

"Leave it to me Master, I will notify Sir Longbottom of your availability. I will see you appointed before the week is out - should you be inclined to accept this opportunity?" The Leutenant suddenly sounded assured and nervous all at the same time, giving Harry pause to think there was more to the authority of this simple soldier. He drew a shaky breath and closed his eyes, listening for any signal in himself that this was the right direction to go. Quietly he felt the brush of Cedric's fingers across his own as they walked onto the Queens Thestral to come to Slythania. 

Harry Opened his eyes and nodded. " I will wait for word from your Duke if I am to searve him."  
______________________________________

True to his word, but the end of the week Harry sat straight on a hard wooden chair. He had been collected by Sir Longbottom himself from the pub, who looked Harry over with an exasperated sigh and upon running his gloved hand over the back of his kneck, motioned for Harry to follow him to the Duke's castle keep.

They road in silence until Longbottom spoke first, "I am told by Lt. Dobby that you worked for Lord Felix since I last saw you? He was a rough old sort of recluse, how were you of use to him?" 

Harry shrugged and kept his body relaxed in the saddle of his horse. "Lord Felix was a fine man of means. He had no children of his own and thus, wanted a companion who could also attend to his affairs when needed." Harry took in the look of curiosity on Longbottom's face and continued "Often not, he just wanted for..." Harry sighed "He just wanted for a friend. Someone who would read him his favorite sonnet, or play the piano until he could sleep..."

"You play piano?" Longbottom whispered almost reaverently. "That's lovely - Duke Malfoy always enjoys music after dinner and Im affraid I am the only attendent of his Grace who has any skill at the instrument - though little it may be." He sheepishly smiled "To have someone else take a try at it will be a relief..." He chuckled.

Harry stared off into the aproaching keep, unfeeling of anything around him. He still found himself unable to rekindle any sort of joy in playing like it once had for him. When he played for Cedric, it was a way to reconnect with the Mother he never knew and express some sentiment to his lover and friend. Now, it was out of duty to his employer. Harry nodded with a hum. "I will play whatever the Duke wishes. I took lessons with the generosity of Lady Grainger of Raventown and my time with Lord Felix left me familiar with most Slythanian arrangements. "

They dismounted and Harry was lead into a large open court yard. He removed his gloves and looked around to the neat and well kept grounds. He noted the distant gardens and the hum of activity flourishing around him, even so, there was a opresing air of grief. Harry could embrace that. 

His eyes wondered up to the windows on the floors above him and his eyes collided with another set of cold steel grey orbs attached to a man about Harrys age. He had sharp high cheek bones and long white blonde hair, Harry could almost convince himsef it was not a man, but a marble statue he was looking at. Harry didnt look away as the man in the window begain to glare. Instead, Harry softly smiled and watched as his steel grey eyes softened for a flash before his face turned to scowl and he tore from the window. Harry blinked, and then realized he was being summoned by Sir Longbottom. 

He was guided to large, and well housed library. He walked the room's area, taking in all the subjects his eyes greedily could pick out. Cedric had once promised the Duke would have more books than Harry could read in a lifetime, and now having seen it, Harry believed that expired promise. Harry sighed softly, Cedric would have loved the light that blead in from the stained glass windows. He drew down his brow in anger - mostly at himself for allowing any emotion to entagle him again. Harry schooled his face neutral once more as the doors flew open and the same marbled young man strode through in a huff.

Harry took him in more fully this time. He was tall with broadly muscled shoulders. Somehow though, he retained a classical ellegence in his features. His nose was long and straight, under that was a set of full and frowning lips. He was walking with an agressive purpose towards Harry. Harry could feel his insides grip with a coldness, He had seen that walk before, with his Uncle, right before Harry was sure to get a sound lashing, usually for something Harry had no idea of. He took a deep breath, and curled inward on himself, bracing for the attack. 

Abruptly the man stopped, feet from Harry with a perplexed look on his face, like Harry was some puzzle. Those grey cold eyes went over every detail of Harry, even pausing to see the scars that ran over Harry's wrists. Harry tugged at his tunic and crossed his arms over his mid section, tilting his chin up and out slowly, he leaned back against one of the heavy wooden tables and found his own voice, glad it rang out calmer than he felt. "Hello, I'm Harry Potter...you must be Duke Malfoy. I am glad to finally meet you." He let out a quiet breath as the Duke's face morphed from shock to irritation.

"I see you've not been schooled in royal ettiquet. Honestly Potter, I am a Duke, I could have you executed here and now." Malfoy's hands clinched into two fists. Harry shifted to stand straight, drawing his hands behind his back and nodded.

"Yes, Sir...." He paused hearing Malfoy breath in deeply, probably trying to calm his own temper. "I've made it known that I am a nobody, and ordinary, and every dull word you can come up with, thus protocol when you meet someone of Royal standing is something I have in disadvantage to you." Harry paused and caught the Duke's eye, smiling softly as he looked into them and spoke again "But I'm also now your new secretary, and I am still honored, despite your predjuce attitude about my heritage, to be so." Harry huffed in laughter at the look of astonishment that was now engrained onto Duke Malfoy's face.


	2. Stand Off or Stand Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke Draco Malfoy and his new secretary Harry Potter begin to build a relationship of sorts. But when the Duke's best friend Blaise Zambini arrives with his men from the capitol for training excercises - will their budding friendship endure or will it change to something else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes chapter 2. I thought I'd try this one from Draco's POV. Let me know which you prefer to see as the story progresses - Harry or Draco?
> 
> This is going to be a living work - I'll add and arrange things as I find the time/inspiration.
> 
> Again - I'm a total noob at this AU Harry Potter stuff - be kind. :) Thanks to everyone who's left kuddos so far! Enjoy!

Does love blossom from trust or does trust grow from love? Draco wasn't sure he cared either way. He did however, care very much if the staff that worked closely with his own personal affairs were capable of loyalty Loyalty had to be unquestionable.

He shifted uncomfortably in the heavy uniform jacket he was wearring, the material was constricting and rubbed against an old shoulder wound he'd acquired training as a youth. He raised a gloved hand to shield his eyes from the suns rays, summer was close to ending, but it would not seem to let go just yet. His thighs gripped the saddle of the horse beneath him and he focused again on the approaching task. 

Draco and his men had 2 months left before inspections. Slythania prided themselves for having an exceptional calvary. Draco felt a swelling pride in his chest, watching his men run through the course before him. The uncomplicated relationship of horse and rider, complimenting each other in all. Then the peaceful scene was broken by the crashing sound of boards being knocked from their hurtle and a shout. Draco scanned the course, already knowing who he would find responsible, cringing as his eyes landed on his new secretary a Mr. Harry Potter. Who had leapt from his steed to set the boards straight again - causing all manner of unrest on the course. Other men were pausing to check if the smaller man was hurt, or good natured tease his error. It made Draco narrow his eyes in glare.

It had been 3 months since Potter came to join the Duke. Draco found Potter to be a prideful and arrogant member of his staff. The young man seemed to lack all manner of discipline and practicality. Yet, Sir Longbottom and Lt. Dobby practically sang sonnet's in his name. Potter was well liked by all the inhabitant's of the keep, even the kitchen staff! Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes - to be popular was far from his mind. 

But even grudgingly, Draco admitted to a weed of fondness for Potter that even grew within the cracks of his own solidly walled off heart.

Draco had driven all other viable secretary candidates away with his often mood swings - but Potter seemed ...indulgent of them. It gave Draco pause to entirely cast aside this young would be secretary from his presence. Often when Draco found himself mad - Potter would smile at him softly and they would spar verbally or with the sword until exhaustion or exasperation would cause the Duke to forget what he was angry about to begin with. Or if the Duke would become suddenly distraught with melancholy or boredom, Potter could sit at one of the many piano's his Mother had insisted upon the keep having and Play something that would draw him out of his pit like a siren's call. Yes, Mr. Harry Potter was definitely a weed. A weed which no matter how often the Duke up rooted from his walls, grew back again with vigor. 

He knew the gossip that was running rampant about himself in the keep and surrounding village - one would have to be an idiot to not. People thought him petulant and demanding. They also found him to be lacking in any manner of warmth or good humor. Draco rolled his eyes at that. Good humor never did his Mother the Queen any favors.

Draco huffed and then swallowed hard. He thought he had done well in hiding the depth of his grief. His Mother's death had dealt him a blow unlike any other. She alone seemed to understand Draco. She would simply smile at his moods fondly and raise a hand for him to kiss or caress his cheek in tenderness and say softly: 'Oh my Dragon...your fire burns brightest even when it lacks in bite.'

The Queen had been sick for quite some time. A wasting disease the physician's said and they insisted the fresh sea air and gardens of the Keep would prolong her life and sustain her. She died a peaceful sort of way, like having gone to sleep one warm afternoon in the garden, holding Draco's hand from her reclined position under the shade of the large willow tree. He drew in a sharp breath as another loud clang responded from across the field, pulling him forcibly from his memories. It made his blood boil with anger, seeing yet again the idiotic Potter fumbling through. 

All of the personal staff of the Duke were required to be proficient at Calvary. At first, Potter showed some skill with a sword, and a moderate ability to ride - but the advanced skills were lacking. It was plain to Draco that Potter lacked a connection with his horse, and didn't seem to care if he found one. The Duke pushed his horse to advance on the scene, looking down his long nose to Potter on the ground. "I have correspondence for you to dictate in the study - clean yourself and be in my personal study - promptly. I will not wait long on you before banishing you to muck stalls." Draco found himself met with a burning set of bright green eyes and a crooked but gentle smile from Potter, which only irritated him further. 

"Ofcoarse...Sir." Potter responded, the glittering taunt in his eyes only growing. It pressed on something deep within Draco when Potter would say 'Sir' instead of 'Your Grace' or 'Duke' Draco felt the pressing heat coil inside his stomach like a beast that would gladly rip from his own skin and devour the young man before him. 

Draco flexed his thighs in his saddle and taking his riding crop in hand used it to push a sweaty strand of black wild hair from Potters brow and upon seeing the delicious flash of confusion across Potter's eyes Draco spoke softer this time "Bathe thoroughly - I'll not be shut up with a small reeking beast all afternoon." Then Draco sat straighter in his seat and urged his horse onward to the stables, leaving a fuming Potter behind him.

_______________________________

Potter, once taunted, made for an afternoon of distraction for the Duke. The Secretary would come lumbering into Draco's study with his emotions quite close to the surface and the pair would verbally spar the rest of the afternoon. It had quickly become Draco's favorite past time.

He shuffled parchment and maps across his desk before closely regarding the evaluations his Captain's had issued of the calvary's progress before inspections. Then drawing a deep breath looked up to see Potter's entrance. Where Draco was all tall and broad with the muscle of some exotic feline, Potter made a striking contrast - compact and lean but fit. Easily man handled - but not with out a fight. 

Draco curled his face into what he hoped was cold indifference, but still found his eyes admiring Potter's flushed clean face. He licked his bottom lip as he observed a drop from Potters damp hair run from his temple down the column of his slender neck and disappear under the dark uniform jacket he wore. How thorough had Potter been in cleaning Draco wondered? Would he taste the salt of sweat still clinging to Potter's skin as he licked and bit at his kneck? Draco's mind fantasized that the taste would grow richer as he slammed Potter against the wall, parted his legs, and after pulling down the tight uniform breeches he wore, Draco would lick him from taint to puckering hole. He would fuck him open with his warm wet mouth. Worshiping the smaller man like He was before an alter. Potter would squirm his hips backwards into his thrusting tounge, wantonly moaning and begging as Draco punished him for daring to becoming his personal Deity of desire. Draco cleared his throat and discreetly adjusted his growing erection while behind his large desk, He motioned for Potter to take his place at the small seat to his right. 

Potter, who was normally a blank wall of any outward emotion, was obviously bristling to argue with the Duke, and Draco would hash his own taunts in response. "Firstly Potter, Organize a summary of these reports from the Captain's. I am far too busy to be bothered with tracing over every single recruite, and do try to write ledgibly this time - honestly, I know you're common but no one could fault me for believing you had left some sort of code instead of words behind." Draco pushed the pile of parchment onto Potters small desk in a heap and relaxed back into his chair with a huff. 

"Also, father has written about some portrait that I should have ha done ages ago - but the artist commissioned went and got himself drowned. Now there is a new bohemian on his way to needlessly take up my time. Be sure to organize all the details." The clatter of Potters wooden chair turning over and his fist hitting the wooden desk made Draco jump to a stand himself with wide eyes.

"Enough!" Potter yelled with a venom Draco didn't know the young man possessed "I take your abuse and snobbery. For months I have even though well of you when I should not - thinking you a good leader of your men and benevolent Duke of your Keep and people. But I will not take you disrespecting His memory." Potter was panting in short breaths and Draco found himself scoffing in his face.

"Just what do you think you're doing speaking to me as such? What is this of Memory? I suppose you mean that dead artist ...DIg...Diggory!? Commoners do seem to pool into such small circles." Draco felt color rise to his cheeks, he was being petulent, even for him and unnecessarily cruel, judging by the deep hurt he saw suddenly rise in Potters eyes.

"His name was Cedric Diggory. He was a brilliant artist - the best of our age - and an unending source of light and warmth for all who were privileged to be close to him. He was the Sun for which all good things sprung from my life...my...my heart." Potter voice cracked and Draco found himself frozen from the passionate sentiment and loyal fire he seemed to possess. It made him burn with shame.

Potter lowered his eyes, Draco could see the pooling tears collecting in Potters normally placid face and burning cheeks, his heart broke. It broke for the depth of loyalty he could see, the longing for connection Potter had for someone who was dead. Draco thought of his Mother, and though he did grieve for her - he did not know if even his loyalty to her would not pale when held in comparison. 

"I loved him....for all the beauty he brought despite his own misery at being forced into his craft...He saved my life. Twice. And...and I will not remain silent to your cruel words this time Duke Malfoy. You rule this keep with your cold fear and gripping snobbery. You drain all the vitality from everyone you meet, I have tried so desperately to find the warmth buried somewhere deep within your eyes. I'll not...I'll not..." Potter fled from the study leaving Draco speechless.


End file.
